Free On Thin Icing by Ellie Alexander Page B

evaporated into fog. The heat was obviously off. I found the thermostat and switched it to high.
    The cabin was the textbook definition of cozy and snug. It had wood floors, knotty-pine walls, and red and white gingham curtains (just like the ones in the lodge) tied with twine on the windows. The front room had a woodstove, rocking chair, and futon couch that look liked it doubled as a bed. That was good. Carlos could sleep there tonight.
    A small kitchen was attached to the living room. Above us there was a loft with two-foot-high ceilings and a wooden railing. I dropped my bag by the front door, and walked to the back of the cabin. There were cupboards with board games, a collection of old movies and books, and popcorn. A small bathroom with a standalone shower and sink and a bedroom took up the space in the back of the cabin.
    “This is so romantic, no?” Carlos lit a candle on the kitchen counter.
    “It’s adorable,” I agreed. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that Carlos was actually here.
    “You want a glass of wine, and we will curl up by the fire and continue?” Carlos stuffed wood and kindling in the woodstove.
    “I didn’t bring any wine.”
    “This is no problem. I will go get some. You stay here.” He lit the fire and zipped his coat.
    “But it’s terrible out there.”
    “It’s nothing. I will be back very soon.” He started to open the sliding door. “Do you have the key?”
    “Yeah.” I reached into my pocket and tossed him the keys to the lodge and marina. “Are you sure you really want to go back out there?”
    “Of course. For you, Julieta, I would do this and much, much more.”
    “You don’t need to do this for me. I don’t need a glass of wine. I’m fine.” On the ship when Carlos spoke to me like that I remember feeling almost dizzy with love. Now on land, his words felt different.
    Carlos shook his head. “No, no. This is good. I will be back. You stay warm by the fire.” He slid the door open and stepped onto the porch before I could protest more.
    Did I look like I needed a drink? Come to think of it, how did I look? The afternoon and evening had been such a whirlwind of activity and cooking that I hadn’t had a chance to slow down. Carlos heading out on a late-night wine run meant that I could hop in the shower. There’s nothing better than a cleansing shower after a long day in the kitchen. Apron or no apron, my skin always ends up with a layer of flour. It’s impossible to avoid.
    I turned the shower on its hottest setting and let the small bathroom fill with steam as I unpacked a pair of black fleece sweats, wool socks, and a soft ivory-colored sweater. I might as well be comfortable if Carlos and I were going to share a bottle of wine. The bathroom was stocked with travel-sized oatmeal soaps, shampoo, and conditioner as well as mouthwash, toothpaste, and razors. It reminded me of our tiny cabin on the ship.
    Life on the sea was like living in a magical storybook. Things like toothpaste and bars of soap were delivered to our cabin on a weekly basis. We didn’t cook for ourselves, except when Carlos would close the kitchen in the evening and whip up something special for the staff. We were responsible for thousands of meals, but not much else. It was an extension of youth—drinking wine at two o’clock in the morning, dancing under the stars, meeting new people from every corner of the globe. It wasn’t real life. Was that the root of the problem between Carlos and me? We never had to grow up?
    I sighed and stepped into the steamy shower. As the water ran over my skin I lathered oatmeal shampoo into my hair. It smelled like the kitchen. The heat felt rejuvenating. I became lost in my thoughts as the water swirled down the drain.
    After a while, my skin was two shades pinker. Probably time to get out. I dried off and applied a thick layer of lotion. My skin practically glowed. I pulled on my comfy clothes and ran a blow-dryer on my hair. It takes